MOHIT MITRA Poet Tercet

First Kingdom

Bare basalt bore no banner on its face,
Yet lichen kept the oldest song of rain;
The cliff received no chronicle of grace.

No cedar dreamt the patience born of stone;
A hidden fissure gathered gifts of rain,
Till silence made the heart of granite known.

No moss proclaimed dominion over shale;
It gentled hardness by the law of rain,
Till mountains learnt the meekness of the frail.

Then yesterday gave birth to one green leaf;
The hidden seasons kept their tryst with rain,
And time unveiled the provenance of leaf.

The fern arose where none had granted birth;
The dew restored the first bequest of rain,
Till forests claimed their ancient right on earth.

I left the valley poorer only thus:
The least beginnings outlive loud acclaim;
Stone learnt that quiet is the root of us.

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Sara Kendrick July 23, 2026 at 12:42 PM I am seeing your name on Joanna's winners' list. Congratulations! Way to go. Sara K. MOHIT MITRA July 23, 2026 at 8:24 PM Dear Sara, My heartfelt thanks for thy gracious congratulations. Though I know thee only through thy words and not by personal acquaintance, I have ever felt that thy messages arrive bound in blessings. Such constancy of kindness bespeaks, I think, a truly noble soul. Thy generous encouragement is received with sincere gratitude, and I thank thee most warmly for it. May thy own path be richly adorned with grace and enduring joy.

Joanna Daniel July 19, 2026 at 11:57 PM A different take on the theme of stones and nature, Mohit, congratulations:) MOHIT MITRA July 20, 2026 at 12:11 AM Dear Joanna, My warmest thanks for thy generous words. I am glad the poem's little pilgrimage through stone and rain found a kindly welcome with thee. I have long believed that Nature keeps her deepest kingdoms hidden, revealing them not by force, but by the quiet fidelity of time. Thy gracious encouragement is received with sincere gratitude, and I thank thee for reading with such thoughtful care.

Alison A Smith nee Howarth July 17, 2026 at 8:05 PM No matter the bleakness through tears as rain an awakening can occur. MOHIT MITRA July 20, 2026 at 12:09 AM Your words reminded me of a thought I have long cherished: tears do not merely express sorrow—they cleanse the soul. As my poor little dedication to Alison— "The soul's dim mirror, tarnished long by clay, Is burnish'd clean where faithful tear-drops fall; What grief seemed bent to darken and betray Restores the lucid truth that dwelt through all."